


The Hobbit: An Unexpected Tangle

by FallenNiji



Category: Tangled (2010), The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: A bunch of singing, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bilbo as Rapunzel, Bilbo has powers, Disney turned Hobbit songs, Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, Dwobbit Bilbo Baggins, F/F, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Frying Pans, Lobelia Sackville-Baggins as Mother Gothel, M/M, Mentions of slash and mpreg, Multi, NaNoWriMo 2017, Nori as Eugene Fitzherbert | Flynn Rider, Other tags are gonna be added when I think of them, Pascal as Pascal, Singing, Tauriel is young, The Valar, Timeline What Timeline, Why are you singing?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-27 21:10:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12590600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenNiji/pseuds/FallenNiji
Summary: Ione was never the respectable Hobbit she was raised to be by her dearest aunt Lobelia. She was too creative, too free, too adventurous. Oh no, I think going off with company of male dwarves puts a stomp on her already weak reputation. But how could she resist when the promised her the lanterns and mountains she's only dreamed about?Not to mention, something about that dwarf with the star shaped hair pulls her in.(I tried to make it as fusiony between Tangled and The Hobbit as possible)(NaNiWriMo 2017)





	1. The Unexpected Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> So you might just notice some lines from both the Hobbit and Tangled, don't be alarmed. I'm literally meshing the Tangled and Hobbit universes together, with a few changes here and there. A few things will be added, and a few certainly taken away. There will be mentions of slash and mpreg (probably done too), and culture differences. Oh, and the usage of frying pans. Oh yeah, the timeline is pretty screwed up too. Like real screwed up.
> 
> What I'm most excited for is altering the songs to suit Ione and Arda. Oh and Nori.
> 
> This fic is for NaNoWriMo 2017, so this will be my main focus unless I get greatly inspired, I won't be updating my other stories any time soon.

 

This story begins not in a hole beneath the ground, not in a faraway kingdom ruled by dwarves, and not even with the rebirth of an Elf. Oh no, my dears. This story begins in a faraway land only few could even dream about entering; in the home of the Valar there lived a certain Lady that weaved the future. The future the Lady Saw was not kind, nor was it filled with life. It Spoke of fire and death, darkness and blood. It spoke of their destruction and grief. The Lady's name was Vairë, and with the help of her fellow Ladies of Valar, they created a Change. But this is not their story. Nor is it any of the immortal race's. 

 

This story belongs to a young Dwobbit who was gifted with the ability to change the future, and save it along the way.

 

At first, there wasn't much of a future for the small girl, as she was doomed to die with her mother due to complications in birth. But Bungo, the Hobbit lad who swore to protect and care for the child not of his blood, went on a small adventure to look for a healer who could save his dying wife. There were no healers in Bree that would be willing to help, or even had the abilities to, and Bungo was not as foolish as to venture to Rivendell all on his lonesome. After all, he was but a Hobbit unused to travel and the ways of the world. So, with a heavy heart, he travelled back to Shire with the knowledge he wouldn't be able to save his wife and her child.

 

And _oh_ , what a scandal Belladonna Took caused. Returning from a journey that the Disturber of Peace dragged her on, heavily pregnant with too old eyes that have seen death and a pack full of weapons and scrolls among other possessions. Her hair was braided – and Hobbits never put braids in their hair bar the youngest! – with carven beads made out of silver. It was the talk of the Shire for many generations, especially when _Bungo Baggins_ , a most respectable Hobbit and the owner of that _splendid_ smial, took her as a wife.

 

It soon became known that the child was not of Hobbit blood; it was rather obvious as Belladonna was past her due date by _six_ months! Oh yes, both Bungo's and Belladonna's reputation was quite ruined. You should've seen what a ruckus Lobelia Sackville-Baggins – Bungo's distant aunt who has been in the family for centuries (in all honesty, that should've rung alarm bells) – caused when she learned of his intentions.

 

(Hidden by the forest and earth, the Earth Mother Yavanna frowned. Then she smiled, eyes glinting with mischief. That Lobelia was going to get a wake-up call soon enough, for Yavanna was disappointed with such a greedy _monster_ being of her creation. The Green Mother just hoped that the little Change wouldn't get hurt, or worse, _killed_ by that old hag.)

 

To his dying day Bungo would never be able to tell you what caused him to take a sharp turn. However, he would never regret it. He wasn't an idiot. As soon as his eyes layed on the golden flower, a basket thrown to the side, he knew the Mother had granted him this. For there were legends of the Mother granting the Shire a magic golden flower that had the ability to heal the sick and injured, and one day a child would come out of it's abilities. Bungo saw the blessing as it was, and gently ripped the flower from the earth. He glanced at the way he came and saw that it was covered with trees. For a moment, he worried he did the wrong thing, but then another path opened up. It led to the Shire.

 

He rushed back to Bag End, clutching the flower in his hand with a grin. He didn't speak to his wife or her midwife, his sister Belba, as he brewed a special tea using the flower. The brew healed the Hobbit lass and less that a day later, a new life was brought into the world.

 

It was obvious that the father of the child was neither Elf, Man or Hobbit. Her hair flowed like gold and her eyes reminded many Hobbits of the meadows of the Shire; bright, warm and filled with life. Her hair was not too curly and her feet were a bit small, still larger than a Man's or Dwarf's and had thick Hobbit hair on them. Freckles dusted over her pointy nose and rosy cheeks.

 

Soon enough, everyone realised that the bright little girl that loved flowers and life and adventures and the stars was indeed half a Dwarf. And everyone (or the Hobbits at least) knew that Dwobbits reached the age of majority at fifty. Oh don't look at me like that. The Tooks were rather _queer_ in their choice of marriage partners. It wouldn't be the first time a Dwobbit was born in the Shire, though she was one of the only few to survive. And she was the only one who looked so... _Pretty_.

 

It was a great relief for Belladonna and Bungo, not to mention Belladonna's family, to see the little girl live past her fifth birthday. The little girl was named Iolanthe Belba Baggins. Iolanthe, a name which means purple flower in an old dialect of Hobbitish; purple because Belladonna loved the colour (and so did little Iolanthe after a few years) and flower so they could honour the magic flower. And of course he named little Iolanthe after his sister Belba, the one who brought her to life. However, unbeknownst to all Hobbits but three, Belladonna also gave her daughter a hidden name, as is the custom among dwarves.

 

Over the years it was rather obvious to see that the golden haired Dwobbit grew much slower than any other child, but quicker than a Dwarf child according to Belladonna. However, everyone was able to see that even without her heritage little Iolanthe was queer. Oh, she loved books and the garden and painting, but she also loved _adventure_. 

 

It was on one such adventure that little Iolanthe met Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, the very Hobbit she was warned to never be around, in passing. It was a well known fact that Lobelia wanted Bag End from the moment it was built and hated Belladonna with a passion. She was most opposed to Bungo marrying Belladonna. And she had been in a right bad mood for the past fifteen years for some odd reason no one could pinpoint.

 

Iolanthe blinked, and with a giggled "Sorry!" ran off to save the princess and defeat the evil dragon (re; Primula and Drogo).

 

Lobelia stared at the place the lass stood, frozen. Because she was not blind. She was not stupid. She recognised the glow and youth the brat excluded. And then she was filled with anger. How dare that girl, that freak, be her flower. How dare she. She wanted nothing more than to cut her and her blasted family down. A plan formed in her head, a plan to get her flower and get Bag End all at once. But before that, she had to see if plan A would work.

 

At night, when everyone was asleep, Lobelia crept into the faunt's room with a small dagger. She stood above the snoozing lass, eyes cold and greedy. Quietly, as to not wake either of the three residents, she sang a song. 

 

" _♪Flower gleam and glow, let your power shine...♪_ " Iolanthe's hair glowed a colour she was familiar with (after all, she's had centuries to familiarize herself with it), and she quickly snatched a lock and cut it off. She scowled when the lock stopped glowing and, albeit it was still a gold colour, it wasn't the same. It didn't glow with the power of the sun. So plan B it was, even if it might take a while for her plan to be completed. For now, she must creep into the room at the dead of night to regenerate her youth.

 

On her seventeenth birthday, little Iolanthe was gifted a room in Bag End that Bungo and Belladonna allowed her to store her paintings in. Soon after, Iolanthe was outside painting on a blank piece of parchment. For hours she just layed there, frustrated, wondering what she should pint. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a small, green creature the likes of which she has never seen before. She scurried closer for fauntlings were the most curious and fearless creatures of all races.

 

The strange creature blinked. Iolanthe giggled. Oh yes, she would draw this small creature. Then she would show it to ma and ma would tell her what it is.

 

She started drawing it. To her surprise, the creature began posing for her! And were they ridiculous poses! They were the type Drogo Baggins did whenever he was around Primula Brandybuck. And even more hilarious! 

 

However, when she wanted to colour her painting, she noticed that the creature wasn't a green colour no more! It turned red! Red like the roses her da grew; red like the rubies ma told tales about! She changed the colour with nothing more than a frown. Iolanthe glanced at the creature again. It turned the colour of amethysts! She changed the colour again. It kept changing colours and she kept changing her's too, until with a frustrated yell, she grabbed the small creature and held it up to her eyes. It squeaked and turned the same colour of her hands.

 

"Stop that," she told it firmly. It turned gold like her hair. "For the Green Mother's sake, please stop it!" It stuck out it's tongue. She gasped at the creature's horrid manners. If she were ever to do that, her da would cuff her over the ears!

 

"Iolanthe, dear girl, who're you talking to?" Her ma came into the garden and gasped. Iolanthe, with frustrated tears in her eyes, stuck out the hand holding the creature. It gave an indignant squeak. "Ma! Ma! This creature keeps changing it's colours! It won't stop! I can't draw it!" The Dwobbit hiccuped. 

 

A laugh esceped Belladonna despite her wishes. "Oh my little amethyst. Of course it changes colours; it's a chameleon after all!"

 

Iolanthe blinked. "Ka-mee-lee-on?" 

 

Belladonna nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, yes! A chameleon! A creature that changes it's colour to it's liking!" She cast an eye at the unimpressed chameleon. "You should let it go, my amethyst. It doesn't look happy."

 

"Oh!" She let it go. It watched her warily as she bowed slightly. She was a proper Baggins after all. "I apologise for my rudeness, my good chameleon!" The chameleon nodded after a minute and scurried off.

 

A few weeks later, the chameleon returned and never left. Iolanthe dubbed him Pascal. A nice name, the Hobbits said. For a chameleon that is.

 

* * *

 

"Ma! Ma!" Iolanthe rushed into the dining room, where Belladonna was making second breakfast and Bungo was trying to work out how to _not_ burn water. (Her father may be an excellent gardener, clan head, architect and carpenter, but a cook he was not.) 

 

Iolanthe was twenty summers old and her hair was the size of two full grown Hobbits. She was rather adamant about not cutting her hair (you should've heard her wail when she saw her cut piece of hair) and Belladonna and Bungo didn't have the heart to disagree. Besides, the hair was causing no trouble and Iolanthe somehow managed not to trip over it despite tripping over a pebble. 

 

Belladonna barely looked away from the eggs sizzling on her favourite frying pan. "Yes, little amethyst?"

 

"I fell off a tree!" The two adults' attention was attracted. In no time Belladonna sat Iolanthe in Bungo's favourite armchair and the said Hobbit was off getting the medic kit. 

 

"Where does it hurt? Did you break something? You're not bleeding and nothing is swelling, so that's good. What were you thinking?! Climbing a tree!" Belladonna shook her head, smoothing her daughter's hair and checking for any bumps. "Why would you do that? I know I was an adventurous lass when I was your age, but I had full control over my hands and feet! You trip over your own feet, Iolanthe Belba Baggins!" The young lass winced. She'd never seen her ma this angry before. And from the wide-eyed looks Bungo kept shooting Belladonna, he hadn't either.

 

"And you!" Belladonna snatched Pascal from Iolanthe's hair. He had tried to hide in her hair by blending in, but no chameleon can fool a Took's eyes. "You are supposed to keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn't go through with her stupid ideas!" Pascal's head fell. There was a certain guilty look on his face that Belladonna knew well. She'd seen in on Iolanthe's cousins from her Sire's side. "She offered you cookies, didn't she?" She deadpanned. The guilt on their face's spoke volumes.

 

Belladonna groaned. " _Iolanthe_!"

 

"Now, Bella my dear. Why don't you calm down and let Iolanthe speak for a moment. I've made us some tea to calm down." Bungo soothed. Ah, this was why she fell in love with him. He was able to keep a cool head even in the most drastic of moments. Belladonna sat down in a nearby chair breathless. "You can speak now, dear girl." Bungo smiled encouragingly.

 

Iolanthe shifted in her chair nervously. "Um... I fell, but I've already told you, haven't I?" She giggled nervously, combing fingers through her hair. She looked unwilling to continue.

 

"Please continue Iolanthe." Bungo smiled charmingly. He was a Baggins after all, and they've been learning how to charm people's pants off since they were tweens.

 

"Uh, well, I sorta broke my arm... But!" She hurriedly continued. Her parents' faces made her cringe. She's never seen them look so terrified before. " _But_. It healed." 

 

Belladonna's heart stuttered to a stop. "What?"

 

"It _healed_. I started crying and–and then my hair started glowing. I don't know why, but I, um, started singing a song and then I was all healed up." Iolanthe looked frustrated, but there was an edge of fear in her eyes. "Is this normal, ma, da?"

 

Their heart nearly broke into two at her desperate tone. The question was so childish, so innocent, yet it set a heavy weight upon Bungo's and Belladonna's shoulders. 

 

"Oh my dear girl." Belladonna scooped her up and placed her on her lap. Iolanthe curled up and clutched her ma's hair. She was shaking. "Have we ever told you the story of the Shire's magic flower?"

 

"N-No," her voice cracked. "W-What does that have to do with th-this?" At her question, Bungo and Belladonna started explaining about her adventures (most which she's already heard about), her time with the dwarrow (as is the proper term), and herself falling in love with one such dwarrow. Iolanthe got the shock of her life when she learned _who_ her sire actually is. Belladonna spoke of a great battle where many dwarrow and enemies alike fell, and where her sire fell as well. She spoke of returning of the ridicule she endured, and most importantly of the love Bungo showed her. Bungo spoke of an ill Belladonna and of an adventurous in which their Green Mother helped him find the magical flower of healing, and how she inherited its abilities.

 

After finishing, Iolanthe was suspiciously silent. Until she looked up at her ma and asked a question that pierced their hearts like an arrow. "Did he love me? Did he even want me?"

 

"Of course he did!" Belladonna took a deep breath, her heart aching like it always did when she spoke of her lost love. "When I informed of my pregnancy, he was elated and spoke about how he was blessed to have a child. He didn't care for your gender, he was just happy for a child. I told him you were to be a lass, and he nearly broke down crying. He loved you, and he wanted you _so much_. If he were alive today, you'd be spoiled rotten." Belladonna took her daughter's chin between her fingers and made her look at her. "Never doubt his love for you, my amethyst. For he loved you more than the gold in Erebor, more than he loved his own brother and sister."

 

Iolanthe slept with her parents that night.

 

* * *

 

Winter came, her birthday long passed. The Brandywine river froze over and the crops all died out. Snow reached past the knees of wee fauntlings, and at first they loved to play in the snow. But then the orcs and wargs and wolves came. Many died and many fought. Many were lost to the cold or hunger, but also to the orcs and wild animals. A letter pleading for help was sent out to the Rangers and to the Elves of Rivendell, but it was too late by the time they came. For Belladonna Baggins was long dead, felled by an arrow from an orc pack. 

 

Iolanthe, being the foolish fauntling she was, ran out of Bag End in the dead of night with a promise to bring the Elves. (Pascal, went with her, he was a loyal Baggins after all.) She was a strong Dwobbit after all, and no orc or warg or wolf could ever hurt her. She was arrogant, and that's what got her caught. An orc pack surrounded her, and if it weren't for her mother's timely arrival, Iolanthe would've been tortured and dead by the time the Elves of Rivendell arrived. Belladonna managed to kill three orcs and a warg before an arrow pierced her heart. She fell to the cold snow, her sweet daughter falling to her knees beside her. Pascal wide-eyed on her shoulder.

 

Iolanthe watched her wide eyed, tears streaming freely down her cheeks. Her chameleon companion was no better. She looked absolutely terrified. Her hands shot to the arrow, ready to take it out, but Belladonna weakly grabbed them. "No," she whispered. "Never take an arrow out of a wound, it would only make it bleed faster. Keep it in, I'll live longer." She soothed. It did not have the desired afffect on her daughter. Because Iolanthe was not an idiot. Her ma worded it like she wouldn't survive. Pascal licked his best friend's mother's cheek. He didn't like this.

 

"M-Ma, I'm so so–" Belladonna shook her head, however much it pained her to do so. She put a hand on her daughter's cheek, wiping away the tears that fell. "Hush now, don't speak. This isn't your fault. It's mine for not watching you better. And for not keeping up with my training." She joked weakly, but it just made Iolanthe sob harder. The light was already leaving her eyes.

 

(Pascal whimpered. It was also his for not stopping Iolanthe. But Belladonna made no mention of it.)

 

Then, Iolanthe remembered her ability. "Ma, I could–!" She grabbed her long hair, ready to press it into her ma's wound. The orcs watched gleefully; they always loved watching little one's crying at the deaths of their parents before they tortured them. 

 

Belladonna shook her head sharply. "No," her voice made Iolanthe drop her hair. "Even if I was healed, I would not be able to take on all of them without some getting away. They would speak of your abilities and orcs and others would come to the Shire and take you away." She was crying and gasping for breath by now. "I cannot let that happen." Her hands went weakly to her neck and she took off a pouch. It was well made, purple in colour and lined with silver. "Take this, amethyst. In this pouch are the courting and family beads your father gave me. I give you everything of my own." She placed the pouch into Iolanthe's slackened grip.

 

Belladonna smiled one last time and mouthed three words. Then, her head fell and she knew no more. 

 

Iolanthe stared at her ma's peaceful face. If it wasn't caked with orc blood, and if her chest was moving, she would've thought her ma was just resting. She tightened her grip on the pouch. Her ma was dead, but even in her final moments she managed to give her everything. Pascal nudged her nose frantically, however Iolanthe didn't react.

 

"Ha! Did you see that whore's face! Pathetic!" The orc laughed, speaking in Common on purpose. The other orcs laughed alongside him, feeling giddy. 

 

Iolanthe's head was bowed, so they didn't spot her expression. Pascal, on the other hand, did. He did the smart thing and took a step back. He cast a hateful look at the laughing _bastards_ , and could find no pity for them in his small heart. They deserved what was coming to them.

 

Iolanthe turned so abruptly it seized their laughter. The look on her face _screamed_ murder. And her glowing _blue_ eyes made the orcs realise who (or rather _what_ ) they were dealing with. They paled. Every orc knew not to make _them_ angry, for they were terrifying even when calm. 

 

And this was one furious baby Durin.

 

* * *

 

When the Elves of Rivendell, the Rangers and Bungo Baggins arrived, it was to find Iolanthe staring blankly at the orcs littering the ground in various forms of death. She was sitting beside the still form of Belladonna, Pascal on her shoulder. She had orc blood in her hair and on her face and clothes. Pascal didn't escape the blood either. Iolanthe was clutching the pouch in her hands.

 

The funeral was held three days later. Belladonna was burried in Bag End's gardens. On her grave grew a flower. It was a Belladonna.

 

A week after the funeral, Bungo, Pascal and Iolanthe temporarily moved to Rivendell. They left Bag End in the care of the Gamgees, whos wore to protect it from grubby Hobbits like Lobelia Sackville-Baggins. In Rivendell, Iolanthe swore to learn healing to save everyone, so no one would have to deal with what she did. She and Pascal made friends with Lord Elrond's children, Glorfindel and even the young Mirkwood prince and his red-headed sister (who was not yet five hundred years old, the age of majority for elves) who visited a few times over the years. She and Pascal spent most of her days with Bungo or her eleven friends, or in the library, the Halls of Healing, the kitchens, the gardens or just wandering around aimlessly. Bungo, on the other hand, spent most of his time in the library or with other elves. Bungo and Iolanthe made no mention of her abilities. Lady Galadriel still somehow knew about them. 

 

Like all good things must end, Bungo managed to hold out until she was thirty eight, but his love for Belladonna was too strong and he died soon after her birthday. There was a law among the Shire folk, that when an underage Hobbit (or Dwobbit in her case) had no parents, they were to be taken in by a Hobbit who had no or very few children until they reach majority. And even a Lord had to listen to the law. Iolanthe and Pascal were soon brought back to the Shire with promise of visiting.

 

After his funeral (he was burried next to Belladonna in Bag End's garden), she was shuffled off into her smial to meet her new caretaker until she turned fifty. Her caretaker was Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, a woman who she barely knew. She was a sweet talker who managed to have Iolanthe listen to her every word in under a year.

 

Soon enough, Iolanthe was no more and Ione took her place. Her aunt Lobelia said it was easier to pronounce and remember, and the wee lass didn't want to anger her aunt. Everyday before bed or whenever Lobelia felt like it, Ione sat in front of her singing her Healing Incantation while her aunt Lobelia brushed her hair. Ione didn't know why she did it, or how aunt Lobelia even knew about her hair, but she did whatever to make her happy. Even if she couldn't adventure anymore, even if she couldn't step past Bag End's gate anymore. Her dwarrow self was totally forgotten and locked away.

 

( _"The outside world is a dangerous place, filled with horrible, selfish Men, Dwarves and Elves. You must stay here where you're safe. Do you understand, flower?"_ )

 

(Her friends never did visit, nor did they send a letter.)

 

(Lobelia turned them away. Lobelia bruned them.)

 

(Ione didn't know.)

 

(Pascal hated her. He kept out of sight, so aunt Lobelia never did know about Ione's best friend.)

 

Then, barely a year before her age of majority, a wizard came knocking. He brought with him a company of thirteen dwarves, one of which who would soon become more than a friend to her.

 


	2. An Unexpected Wizard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We meet Ione and Pascal years later, Ione sings a song and dances, and Gandalf makes his appearance.

He scurried past the kitchen table, scanning an eye around the room. His eyes fell on a drawer and he smirked. She would never find him in there. For some reason she always looked in the library, but today that would be her downfall. He easily climbed up the chair using his small ahnds and strong tail. The chair was not far from the counter, so he had no problem jumping there. Now all he had to do was open the drawer and he would win today's game.

 

Just as he was about to pop the draw open (somehow), he heard footsteps approaching and he froze. What. But–But she looked here! He didn't have anytime to open the drawer and hide, so he just jumped behind a conveniently placed tea cup and blended in.

 

"Ha!" He nearly jumped out of his skin when she jumped into the kitchen, a grin on her face. Oh he hoped she wouldn't notice him.

 

There was a spark of mischief in her eyes. Her eyes roamed the kitchen and thankfully didn't spot him. "Oh well," she shrugged. "I guess Pascal's not hiding in here." She turned around and walked away, a suspicious hop in her step.

 

Once she was out of his eyesight, he breathed a relieved chuckle and slumped. That was when a piece of golden hair wrapped up around his tail and dragged him away from his hiding spot. He shrieked, shouting some not very nice words in his animal language and crossed his arms at the giggling blonde.

 

Ione, at the age of fourty nine, was a beautiful young Dwobbit. Her long blonde hair would make any Dwarrow jealous. It reached well over seventy feet. It said a lot about her strength that she didn't die from a cracked neck. Her hair was heavy after all. Ione was a respectable Dwobbit, but she never went to the market and could never talk to any other Hobbit. Her aunt Lobelia said so.

 

Pascal, on the other hand, hadn't changed much. He was still the sarcastic, humorous and annoying chameleon Ione loved. And he was still improper. And for her sake she hoped he would never change.

 

"That's thirty one for me." She smiled, cocky. "How about we make it thirty two?" She was ready for another game of hide and seek. Despite her size, Pascal could never find her. But she always found him.

 

He glared at her. She pouted. "Fine, no game, I get it. You don't want to lose again." He squawked at her indignation. She ignored him and sat on the counter. Her aunt would've been mad if she'd known, but what she didn't know couldn't hurt her. "Well, then, what do _you_ want to do?" His whole aura lit up brightly; his tail uncurled and he pointed outside the window, where Ione could see the mountains in the distance.

 

"Yeah," she snorted and grabbed her reptilian friend. "I don't think so. In here is fine with both of us. Aunt Lobelia would have a fit." She shuddered. Her aunt's anger was one of the things she did not want to be on the receiving end of. Pascal stuck out his tongue.

 

"Come now, Pascal! Stop pouting like a wee tween! It's not so bad in here!" With a mischevious grin Pascal mirrored, she shoved off the counter and ran off deeper into Bag End. Her blond hair was dragged along the floor behind her.

 

" _♪Seven am the usual morning line up♪_ " she tugged open all the windows with a hefty contraption she created years ago.

 

" _♪Early breakfast to prepare and not to forget all the morning chores♪,_ " the eggs sizzled on the frying pan and she nudged Pascal. His eyes widened and he quickly turned off the stove. She took the pan and dumped the eggs on a plate. The two finished up quickly and started on the chores.

 

" _♪Sweep Bag End up prettily and do the laundry♪_ " she sweeped the entrance to Bag End, and with a quick foot she lifted up her hair and swept the dust and dirt into the duster held by Pascal. He coughed, caked in dust and dirt, and sent her a pouty glare. She giggled. She had Pascal toss out the dirtiness and drifted off to the laundry room. She sighed, looking at the piles of dresses lined up. The Dowbbit rolled up her sleeves. Time to get to work!

 

" _♪Make sure nothing is out of place so aunt Lobelia isn't angry♪_ " she spotted an old painting of her parents and her (a painting which aunt Lobelia disliked) tilted to one side and fixed it. Her sensitive Dwobbit ears picked up a crash; she cringed. Turning, she was met with a pile of old pots, some thankfully intact. It trembled and from underneath it came an incredulous chameleon. He spotted Ione looking and quickly blended in. However, he faltered when she placed her hands on her hips.

 

" _♪But I guess I have more sweeping to do♪_ " She grabbed her trusty broom and glared at her companion. His head lowered, sheepish. Ione was never one to hold grudges or stay angry for too long so she faltered and sighed. There was no staying mad at the cute being Pascal was. But still, they really needed to clean this mess up.

 

" _♪And by then it's like seven fifteen♪_ " The old heirloom clock never lied, she slumped. It was so early yet she was already tired. Pascal groaned on her shoulder.

 

" _♪Trim the garden roses, and maybe dust the shelves♪_ " aunt Lobelia always liked it when her prize awarding roses were trim and perfect, not a leaf or petal out of place. Ione was easy to comply. And while the shelves filled with old china _were_ getting dusty, the ones filled with books were not.

 

" _♪I have books to read and and many dresses to mend♪_ " she grabbed a book of old lore from the shelf. It was a book Lord Elrond had ordered for her long ago for her twenty fifth birthday, all the way from Gondor. 'Twas a story of the Valar and of the Dark Lord Sauron and the Rings of Power. She never understood greed, for rings and gold were hardly important enough to kill for. A freshly baked orange pie on the other hand... Well, that was a different story. After reading, she quickly set herself and Pascal upon torn dresses, both her's and aunt Lobelia's.

 

" _♪Maybe I'll add a few new painting_ _s_ _to my gallery♪_ " her painting room, which was already quite large, needed to be expanded quite a long time ago. It did nothing to quench her thirst for adding new paintings. She finished the painting of a tween Dwarf and Hobbit holding hands. Pascal admired her work and even turned the exact same shade of pink she drew the dress. She giggled at the compliment. Pascal had such a sweet tongue.

 

" _♪I'll play the harp and knit and cook and basically♪_ " she strummed a few strings on the expertly crafted harp from Ered Luin. Ione had always been fond of this instrument and always begged Lord Elrond to get her one until one of the Elves of Rivendell had finally given up and handed her his. _Resisting is futile_ , he had said when other elves laughed at him. Then she focussed on knitting a dark blue scarf for her and her best friend. Oh, not to mention already making elevensies. But she slumped, glancing out of the window to the mountains she's dreamed about visiting.

 

" _♪Just wondering when will my life begin?♪_ " Bag End was starting to suffocate her, so she did what aunt Lobelia taught her to do; open the door and let fresh air in. She wasn't allowed to go outside into the garden before asking, the trimming and watering of roses was the only thing she was allowed to do. Aunt Lobelia always seemed to know when she disobeyed. Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a plain part of the wall half-covered by a curtain. She gained a spark in her eyes.

 

The chameleon eyed her warily. The next thing Pascal knew, Ione pushed aside the curtain and was painting the wall. He sighed. How typical of her.

 

" _♪Then after have elevensies, it's riddles and conkers and baking♪_ " Ione made quick work of the plates she and Pascal dirtied. In no time she was sitting by the bookcase with Pascal on the desk and reciting riddles from an old book. That one about wind always got her. They didn't forget to practice their conkers (she was so skilled she would've been the champion if her aunt let her go), and if Ione smacked a nut that Pascal threw at her with her trusty frying pan, well, no one would know. As she had promised Pascal last night, she quickly baked him his favourite cookies. She preferred orange pie, but a Baggins never breaks her promises.

 

" _♪Paperwork, a bit of dance and chess♪_ " Paperwork always had her down in the dumps. Pascal mirrored her sour expression. Ione never understood why aunt Lobelia left paperwork to her, but she wouldn't dare not do it. She glanced up and choked on her laughter. Pascal, it seems, has aquired white 'hair'. Finished with her work, she started on a bit of dance, but she twirled wrong and got bundled up into her hair! She fell; but managed to check Pascal's king as an afterthought.

 

" _♪Make some tea and then_ _ventriloquy♪_ " Ah, tea. Drinking her favorite brew of apple-cinnamon always had her calming down quickly. Pascal disliked the sharp and sweet taste; he rather preferred mint. To have some fun, she convinced Pascal to do ventriloquy with her. Drinking water while making Pascal a puppet always seemed to make her giggle and choke on it. And look, she just did.

 

" _♪Then I'll stretch, maybe sketch♪_ " Ione never liked being out of shape. Maybe it was her dwarf blood, or her Took sense, but something about being fat and easily tired always made her cringe. Besides, aunt Lobelia was also thin so she couldn't say much about it either. Ione could place her palms on the ground without even bending or spreading her legs! And her new painting project was coming along nicely indeed.

 

" _♪Take a climb, sew a dress!♪_ " Bag End was not a tall smial, but one such as small as herself could wrap her hair around the chandelier and pull herself up. That counts as a climb, yes? But either way it was fun to her not yet adult mind. Oh and Pascal looked absolutely adorable in the bright purple and pink dress. Even if he didn't appear to agree so. He was still adorable.

 

" _♪And I'll re-read books, if I have time to spare♪_ " her voice was weaker now, softer. She was growing bored of doing the same thing day after day. If only she could go on an adventure– Ione slapped herself. No! She mustn't think of such unbecoming things for a lass her age! These books were interesting and were all she needed. Even if she has read these passages many times. She mustn't even think about going on an adventure. She _mustn't_.

 

" _♪I'll paint the walls some more, I'm sure there's room somewhere♪_ " or at least, she hopes there is. From where she stoot, she saw no such openings. Would her aunt have to buy her another one of the sketchbooks? She was much more content with painting on the walls... Pascal returned to her shoulder and shrugged. Even he couldn't find an unpainted area.

 

" _♪And then I'll brush and brush and brush and brush my hair♪_ " her hair was long, but she only realised it when she had to brush it. And wash it. For she started in her room amd ended up on the steps of Bag End. She did not, however, notice the amused Tall Folk watching from a distance. Instead she fell into an exhausted slouch. Oh yes, indeed, brushing hair was tiring. But she did not dare cut it. One lock was enough of a shock, that you very much!

 

" _♪Stuck in the same place I've always been♪_ " she stood and stared at the beautiful mountains in the distance. Perhaps this year, aunt Lobelia might... She shook her head and went right back in the smial, shutting the door with unnecessary force.

 

" _♪And I'll keep wondering, and wondering, and wondering, and wondering♪_ " Pascal and Ione ran about Bag End, throwing her hair all along the floors. The things they must do to not grow bored.

 

" _♪When will my life begin?♪_ " she eyed the golden hair, chest heaving up and down. It interested her not longer for now. Feeling daring, she once again opened her smial door and looked at the mountains longingly.

 

" _♪In under a year, the lights will appear♪_ " those lights... She never noticed them before her parents' deaths, but soon after she began to live with aunt Lobelia, she noticed that every year – no exceptions – small golden-orange lights would appear above the mountains. The mountains which housed Ered Luin, the home of the dwarrow. Her ma spoke of that place, and her own Sire was from there. Well, if you want to be precise, he was from Erebor but after the whole dragon fiasco (what did they expect? Dragons were attracted to gold, and from her ma's stories, Erebor was filled with gold...) 'moved' to Ered Luin. And that's not the only thing. The lights always appear the day before Durin's Day...

 

" _♪Just like they do on my birthday each year♪_ " she would've thought it a coincidence, if not for the peculiarity of it. For the light appear the day before Durin's Day, not to celebrate the beginning of the new year. That day was the day she was born, and she knew a coincidence it was not. Now, if she only knew what it meant. She sighed longingly. If only.

 

" _♪Rising high above the mountains♪_ " it was beautiful. Many Hobbits noticed it too, and often took time to just sit there and observe in awe. It reminded her of when she was a faunt and Gandalf the Grey Wizard came along with his fireworks. She hasn't seen the man since she was seven, now that she recalls. Knowing about the longevity of the Maiar (for that is what he is, is it now?), she wondered what he has been doing over the past fourty something years.

 

_"♪What is it like out there where they glow?♪_ " Pascal placed a calm paw on her cheek. She smiled at him in gratitude. Her friend was always there for her in her times of need.

 

She turned to look at the painting she had made earlier. It was beautiful, a creation she was proud of. The sky was dark blue with bright yellow and orange lights floating to the sky above a great mountain. It was not the Blue Mountains, but something else she couldn't place her finger on. She painted a smaller figure of herself, long hair and all, in a tree. A small green fleck on her shoulder.

 

" _♪Now that I'm not a faunt anymore, she might just let me go♪_ " she reached out a hand, as if to reach it from all the way over there, when someone cleared their throat.

 

She jumped, surprised her sharp ears hadn't picked up on them approaching. The young Dwobbit spun on her heel. Her only companion quickly hid behind her neck and under her hair. Both of them had always feared that he would be taken away, or killed, if anyone found out (read: if aunt Lobelia found out).

 

The Man – or rather, Maia – standing on her steps was the last person she expected to see. He hadn't aged a day (fourty four days to be precise). He was still the tall, staff-wielding, hat wearing wizard dressed in grey she remembered. The air around him was still crackling with old powerful. He did not pose a threat to her, but her little friend didn't know that.

 

Pascal was tense, as if he felt the air crackling and bending. She shifted her shoulders, trying to reassure her friend.

 

"Oh, hello there!" She blushed, trying to straighten out her skirts. She had no doubt that he had been there from the morning, and if that was the case, she would be filled with embarrassment. "I apologise! I don't usually greet my guests," not that there were many, mind you, "by dancing and singing in front of their faces!"

 

Gandalf the Grey chuckled at her red face. "'Tis alright, my dear. I'm glad you still enjoy dance and song. It was also relaxing to be greeted that way instead of bows and pleasantries. I say! That's most likely the most creative way I've been greeted in centuries!" She giggled, but inside she wondered how old he really was. The books are never quite precise with this details. And Radagast avoided the topic of ages like the foulest sickness.

 

"No matter how much you hate pleasantries, good morning to you, uncle Gandalf!" Gandalf was by no means on the family level of Lobelia, but he still held a special spot in Ione's heart. His fireworks were grand and never seemed to be washed out of her thoughts. And he was a great friend of her mother's – in fact, he was the one who dragged her along on many of her adventures!

 

Pascal relaxed when he heard her pleasant, albeit surprised, tone. And it did help that she (and her ma) mentioned Gandalf once or twice.

 

"What do you mean? Do you mean to wish me a good morning or do you mean it is a good morning whether I want it to or not? Or perhaps you mean to say you feel good on this particular morning? Or are you simply stating this is a morning to be good on?" Ione blinked up at Gandalf, feeling baffled as to what he had just said. It was an emotion she's familiar with when dealing with wizards.

 

Pascal made a slight sound of confusion. Gandalf's eyes sharpened, almost as if he heard Ione's only friend. For all she knew, he probably did. _Wizards_.

 

"... All of them at once I suppose? You already saw me dance and sing, so I suppose you can guess about my feelings this warm spring day!" She giggled, feeling much like a fauntling once again. "'Tis a beautiful morning it is!" It has been a long time since she's talked to someone that wasn't her aunt or Pascal. Her insides were tingling.

 

"Hmm..." His eyes narrowed. Ione was surprised she didn't burst into flames at the intensity. A shiver crawled up her spine. She had a very bad feeling about this...

 

"Can I help you?"

 

"That remains to be seen." Then, he did a rather bold and impolite gesture. He leant forward until their noses were nearly touching! Ione didn't dare breathe in fear that if she did, her first (well, technically, second) kiss would go to an old wrinkled wizard!

 

"My, now that I've a better look at you, it seems you grew up quite nicely. And what have you been drinking, my dear girl? You look not a day over thirty!" She hid a wince. Despite his closeness to her family, Belladonna never quite managed up the courage to tell him who Ione's father was. For good reason too! Gandalf was quite the meddler.

 

"I-It's rather impolite to talk about a lady's age, uncle Gandalf!" She scolded, but inside her heart was hammering like in a forge. There was a reason no one outside knew about the Dwobbits (or the Helves, Hobbit-Elf), for they were not as accepting of half-breeds as Hobbits were. As long as they were polite, loved food and kin, not to mention merrymaking, Hobbits accepted them with open arms. "And why are you even here? You've not been spotted in these lands since before my faunt years!"

 

There was something in his eyes that made dread curl in her stomach. It spoke of mischief and planning. He was planning something, but what to be exact? The only reason she didn't shut the door in his face was because it would be rude to do so. And she was not a rude lass. Not at all.

 

"Why, my dear girl, I'm looking for someone to share an adventure with!" It was like a dream come true for Ione. Tales of dwarven kingdoms and fathers, of orcs and wargs and goblins, the unexpected luck of a widow's son, and of lanterns and mountains flew through her mind in amazing speeds. Her blood turn to ice; she remembered how her last adventure turned out. It ended with her mother dead and her with nightmares for years.

 

Her mouth fell open. Pascal's mouth fell open as well.

 

"An adventure?" She asked sharply when she remembered herself. "No, no, no! Absolutely not! We won't have any adventures here! We are plain, quiet folk content with our life, uncle Gandalf. You might try asking one of my Took relatives, I'm sure they'd be willing to help if you promise them good food! Aunt Lobelia would throw a fit if I were to run off on an adventure with you. And anyhow, I've had enough adventures thank you very much." She was shaking by the end of her small speech and made to shut the door. The old wizard quickly placed his staff in the doorway so she'd not be able to close it.

 

Pascal gently rubbed his paws over her neck. It did nothing to ease her nerves and guilt, but she was touched.

 

"Iolanthe Baggins!" He glared at her rather impressively. "Did you not just greet me by singing and dancing about going on an adventure in my face? And who is this 'aunt Lobelia' you speak of? I remember you to be a daring babe with a penance for adventure who would not listen to even her mother!" Oh yes, she remembered too. She always ran off and did stuff her parents told her not to, but it wasn't her fault! Faunts were naturally curious, and adding her dwarven heritage, it makes a deadly combination.

 

Ione flushed a deep red, but still tried to close the door. She knew she spoke of adventures and wishes, but they were only words. She didn't actually think a wizard would come and offer her the very thing she dreamed about!

 

"Good morning! And leave me alone! There will be no adventures here!" She snapped and kicked the wizard's staff out of the way. He looked insulted. Well, she's done worse as a faunt and fauntling. Both to him and to elves. Just as she was about to close the door fully, he spoke.

 

"To think I should've lived to be good morning'd by Belladonna Took's daughter as if I were selling buttons at the door." He shook his head, disappointed. Ione stood frozen at hearing her ma's name. How long has it been since that name has been spoken in these halls? Aunt Lobelia never liked speaking about her parents, and Ione herself never spoke to Pascal about them.

 

"Beg your pardon?" Her voice was weak.

 

"You've changed, and not entirely for the better, Iolanthe Baggins." The name sparked something inside of her spirit that nearly made her fall to her knees. There was a pull, a tug, urging her to... To... To do something. How long has it been since she's been called by that name?

 

"Ione," she mummered. Gandalf blinked. "Iolanthe died many a year ago, with her ma. I am Ione, no one else, and Ione is me." A beat. "Please do not call me by that name, uncle dearest. It brings back many a memories of better times."

 

Gandalf looked startled, as if he didn't expect her words. Which he most likely didn't. News of a single Hobbit lass's death would never reach far, even if she were the Thain's own daughter. It was a miracle Radagast the Brown knew of her death, but perhaps it was because he felt it. 

 

Then, unexpectedly, he gained a Look in his eyes that many a Took gained when planning something torturous, dangerous and amusing. 

 

Ione paled. Oh dear.

 

"Well that's decided." He declared. Oh no, no, no, no. "It will be very good for you. And most amusing for me. I shall inform the others."

 

"Inform the who? What? What– no! No, no, no. Absolutely not! We do not want any adventures here! Thank you! Not today, not tomorrow, not any day! I suggest you try over The Hill or across The Water." He ignored her words and turned, heading the way towards the marketplace. "Unc–Uncle Gandalf!" She reached out a hand to grab his robes, but he was already gone.

 

She stared after him for a moment or two, not even noticing when Pascal climbed back onto her shoulder. She snapped out of it when he made an inquisitive sound. 

 

Ione slammed the round door shut and leaned against it, panting. Her face was pale as a wedding gown. She gulped in a breath and quickly made her way to the kitchen. Pascal squeaked. He grabbed onto her hair so he wouldn't fall, and he hit her lightly on the cheek to show his displeasure. She didn't even notice, as she was too frenzied to. 

 

After making herself some tea for calming, and sat down in her father's favourite armchair with a loud huff. She felt drained and oh so _tired_. The meeting with the wizard really took a lot out of her. Not to mention, he said he was going to inform someone of–of _something_. Something to do with her.

 

Frustrated beyond relief, she ran a hand over her face. Pascal placed a hand on her cheek, worry in his eyes. 

 

"I'm fine bud," she smiled weakly, "but I feel that we'll be seeing that wizard rather soon." She did not mention the hope she felt, nor the relief and joy. Pascal always knew, even if she didn't say. "My hopes lay on aunt Lobelia not being home when he returns." She said dryly.

 

Pascal nodded sagely. It would truly not end well. 

 

There was a saying in among the race of Men. What was it..? Oh yes. Speak of the monster and he shall appear. I can describe the next scene that happened perfectly well with those few words.

 

The smial door creaked open.

 

"Oh, Ione! I'm home!"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original song belongs to Disney. But my version belongs to me, no matter how terrible it is. 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I sure did while making it. Speaking of making, I promised it to be uploaded a few days earlier, but it seems I hadn't the time. I have good reasons, for my baby cousin Alica was born on the 4th of November, 2017 at 8:31am! Alica will be getting a lot of books from me, let me tell you that.


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